sometimes my life is like Bob Dylan's 115th Dream.

"you know that point in your life when you realize that the house you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore. all of the sudden even though you have some place to put your shit, that idea of home is gone. or maybe it's like this rite of passage, you will never have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, for your kids, for the family you start. it’s like a cycle or something. maybe that’s all family really is: a group of people that miss the same imaginary place." - Garden State

they say, home is where your heart is, but if that's true, i guess i've never really been at home. cause all my life, my heart has seemed to be all over the place. so, really i could say, my home is the busy streets of New York, green parks of London, smoky country bars of Nashville and rooftops of Paris. even tho i've only ever been to London. but right now, i guess my home is here, in the middle of nowhere, small town, southern Finland, with a farmer as a neighbor and fields of gold as far as the eye can see. i'm a city girl, but right now, this place, this home, seems quite okay.